


Dreaming of Daybreak

by BladedDarkness



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 22:23:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1363909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BladedDarkness/pseuds/BladedDarkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma bites the turnover, and nothing is the same. The fairy tales have been unleashed, and quickly become her living nightmare. Only there's no alarm clock to help her actually escape this world she's been dragged into where the rules are different. AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreaming of Daybreak

It took much longer to pack than Emma recalled it taking in the past. Then again, she'd never grown as attached to a place like she had Storybrooke: hadn't made friends, been known as more than a face in the crowd, hadn't met her _son_.

But, here Emma was, fishing around the nooks and crannies of Mary Margaret's apartment for a lost sock, rolling up a tank top that had somehow made its home amongst the blankets on the back of the couch, and taping up her precious few boxes beside her night stand. She let out a huff and flopped down onto her bed, laying her arm over her eyes.

Her inclination to leave was warring with her new desire to stay where she was for once. Storybrooke may be a little odd, and certainly smaller than the cities she frequented, but there was a feeling of belonging that was strangely comforting. It often made the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck raise for no reason, as if something was lurking beneath the peaceful surface of the town Emma wouldn't quite call home.

Emma's stomach grumbled, and she sighed. She wasn't up for scrounging Mary Margaret's kitchen for some easy-to-fix food, and ruled out Granny's. Emma wasn't sure that she could make herself leave if she saw everyone one final time. She rubbed her face tiredly before sitting up, the plastic container on her night stand drawing her eye. Perhaps the apple turnover would be as good as the Mayor's apple cider.

Storybrooke tilted beneath Emma as her mouth closed down on the pastry, teeth piercing the flaky outside. Emma staggered off her bed, swallowing the tiny mouthful in alarm as the apartment groaned around her. She bolted for downstairs as the metal heaved worrisomely. The thought trickled through the back of her mind that it probably wasn't normal for Maine to have so many earthquakes, but she pushed it aside as the apartment seemed to spin, nearly catapulting Emma over the thin railing on the stairs. Blood pounded in her ears as she stumbled towards the door, concerned as the rumbling earth kept up its rocking motion. Did quakes normally last this long?

Emma was able to break into an odd sprinting motion once outside despite the continuous rolling of the earth, now more preoccupied with making sure Henry was all right once she wasn't in imminent danger of having a building collapse on her. The ground lurched again, sending Emma to her knees in the street, scraping her palms roughly against the asphalt.

A strange fiery sensation struck Emma in the chest suddenly, and she coughed, wheezing as the pain increased. It felt like something had coiled itself around her heart and lungs, constricting tightly. She curled her fingers into the pavement, ignorant of the sudden wave of nearly invisible blue and gold that pulsated from her fingertips, spreading down into the heart of Storybrooke and outward, through the other residents and homes of the sleepy town now awakened.

The throb of blood pounding through Emma's veins was nearly painful now, as if she was burning from the inside. She nearly pitched to the side under the agony, limbs trembling and eyes blurry. A crackling, whistling sound pierced the air, wind whipping about as the earth shook again and her heart clenched again, prompting another cough. The fit was so intense that she nearly missed someone dropping to their knees in front of her.

“Miss Swan,” Regina hissed, eyes dark and angry as she grasped her tightly by the shoulders and shook her roughly. “What did you _do_?”

“Me?” Emma rasped in disbelief, breaking into another coughing fit as Storybrooke seemed to split in sympathy, tearing up the asphalt half a street away. She leaned against the mayor's hands, weak. Her heated blood felt like lava coursing through Emma, eating away at her lungs and igniting her nerve endings. She convulsed, head dropping forward.

Regina gripped her blonde curls viciously, yanking her head up. She slapped the younger woman smartly across the face, watching her eyes roll in their sockets. “You're the only one it could be! How did you break it?”

Emma groaned, lifting her hand onto Regina's shoulder while watching through bleary eyes. She barely registered the furious gasp that escaped the brunette as her grip tightened reflexively before slacking. Unbidden, another pulse slammed through the town from Emma, and Regina glanced around carefully, lips in a thin line. Emma spat up a mouthful of bile to their side, wincing, her hand slipping from Regina's shoulder. Her mouth felt dry and her lips were chapped. The earth had stopped trembling, but her chest still felt like it was trying to cave in on itself.

“I feel like I'm dying,” she admitted hoarsely, throat raw. “Where's Henry?”

“He's safe. And unless you ingested poison or something, you're probably not dying,” Regina responded almost neutrally, fingers still tangled in Emma's hair painfully.

Emma's lips managed to quirk upwards as another spasm coursed through her. “Turnover.”

“Turn-,” Regina stopped herself as the blonde dry-heaved again. “Emma, this is important. Did you eat the turnover? I need an answer.” She shook her lightly as Emma's eyes closed briefly, the pain seeming to finally abate somewhat.

“Bit it.”

“I see.” Regina paused for a moment, taking in Emma's pain-glazed eyes and the slow appearance of the other residents of Storybrooke in the center of the town, far from their current position near the outskirts. “Let me give you a piece of advice, Miss Swan,” she voiced lowly, smirking cruelly.

She stood, keeping her hands on Emma's shoulders before suddenly shoving the younger woman onto her back against the pavement. Emma coughed again, staring up at Regina uncomprehendingly as she struggled to prop herself on her elbows.

“Run,” the Evil Queen ordered, fireball flickering to life in her upturned palm, laughing viciously as Emma's eyes widened. She flipped the flame, watching Emma scramble backwards as it landed between her legs as she tried to upright herself. Emma finally managed to stand shakily and started backing towards the center of town, yelping as the older woman disappeared in a cloud of purple and slammed into her back, sending her skidding away from Storybrooke. A thrust of her hand outward had the blonde flying through the air and crashing against a tree trunk at the edge of the woods. Another orb of fire danced wickedly in her hand, and Emma turned, darting into the safety of the trees as the sun slipped passed the horizon and Regina vanished in another puff of smoke.

Emma's heart hammered in her chest as she sprinted through the woods, limbs snagging at her clothes as she desperately, fumblingly dashed through them, former pain nearly forgotten. Sometimes she was stumbling, sometimes falling, but always, always running.

The moon was barely visible through the thick leaves above the labyrinth of trees outside Storybrooke. The dark was terrifying. Emma's breath came in short bursts as she vaulted over a fallen log, caught her ankle on it and collapsed to the ground.

“Damn it!” she panted, her elbow scraping on a rock as she toppled headfirst into the dirt.  
Emma faintly heard a throaty cackle, the wind and trees rustling about as something, as someone, flitted amongst them. Her heart constricted fearfully as she whipped her head around, searching for her pursuer. “Cut it out!” she screamed, scrambling to her feet as the feminine, ghostly laughter echoed eerily around her. That was part of the reason Emma was so frantic and terrified. She wasn't behind her. Wherever she was, she whispered in her ear, murmuring fearful threats, horrifying promises.

Emma's lungs burned and her legs strained beneath her, eyes watering as she still struggled to keep moving. She fought with the fear threatening to consume her. Not even a life in foster care and as a bailbondsperson had prepared her for this. Nothing was making sense. She paused, realizing something as she abruptly heard the giggle to her left and headed the opposite way. She was not chasing her so much as herding her in the direction she wanted her to go. She hounded Emma relentlessly, spooking her into further flight away from Storybrooke. It was almost like the woman was toying with her.

“Stupid,” Emma chastised herself, tamping down briefly on her instincts that told the blonde to get away from her, to put much more distance between them. Then another giggle startled her, suddenly much too close, and she bolted, breaking through a particularly thick set of underbrush and yelping as she staggered into a tiny glade. Emma winced as she tripped, desperately managing to prevent her ankle from twisting and again, went stumbling onto the unforgiving earth. Her head painfully crashed into the hard ground.

“Damn it,” she whimpered, staring up through an opening in thick canopy of trees at the bright moon that finally poured over her with its eerie, luminescent white glow.

“Such language,” a voice tutted, amused.

Emma jerked violently, chest heaving, trying to keep her rapidly beating heart under control. Her eyes scanned the forest around her, lips forming a tight line as she searched fearfully for the owner of the ghostly, murmuring voice. Emma scrambled backwards through the dirt, towards the middle of the clearing. “Why don't you come out and then you'll really hear some language,” she spat, wincing as the throaty laugh echoed around the clearing again, driving her adrenaline to a new level. Emma trembled on the ground, unable to tear her eyes from the forest around her as she watched. She knew she was watching, too. She could feel her eyes on her and it made her stomach clench uneasily, sending a quiver down her back.

“Where are you?" Emma breathed as the woods went oddly quiet. The silence was deafening and her body tensed instinctively. Suddenly, the bushes in front of Emma rustled and she flinched, her body pulling taut uneasily as she tried to pull herself upright. Every hair on her neck and arms raised itself. This was it.

Slowly, out of the trees, Regina Mills stepped forward into the moonlight. She inhaled deeply before meeting Emma's eyes with a smirk. “The dirt suits you, Miss Swan.”

Emma's brain stuttered. In moments like this, with the moonlight casting a soft glow about the woman, Regina looked more exquisite than lethal. Her breath caught as she took in the short, brunette, and fascinatingly messy locks and red, full lips. Regina's darkened eyes were alight with a radiant violet luminescence that pulled Emma's vision to them, and she gaped in surprise.

Even her crisp suit and heels – and how did she get through the forest on those things? – gave the illusion that though this was a woman you wouldn't want to cross in an office, Regina was relatively harmless. Standing over Emma as Regina was now, however, in the middle of the forest, there was an almost heavy atmosphere surrounding her. Emma felt the shiver down her spine that instinctively told her Regina was her natural predator.

The woman sauntered over slowly and Emma suppressed her desire to run the hell away, the inherent urge to put distance between them that had led her out of Storybrooke and into the woods in the first place. 

What Emma did not expect was for thick vines to spring from the earth and coil tightly about her, holding her securely in place as her limbs were pinned to the ground. Emma froze, fear trickling into the pit of her stomach.

“I've had quite a bit of entertainment chasing you, Miss Swan,” Regina purred, flicking her wrist almost lazily. Another vine burst from the ground and wrapped itself snugly around her neck, pressing against her windpipe slightly.

“How are you doing this?”

Regina laughed throatily. “You still don't get it, do you?” Another twist of her hand and Emma was suddenly upright again, still squeezed uncomfortably by the vines around her. The brunette reached out and tilted Emma's chin down, meeting her gaze with cool dark eyes. “I'm the Evil Queen, dear. Everything my son told you is _very_ much real. Well, except that pesky little business about the Savior,” Regina added, waving her free hand dismissively as the other dug her nails into Emma's jaw painfully. 

Emma stared at her. “That's not possible,” she muttered, in shock at hearing the words from Regina's lips. “Magic and fairy tales – none of that is real!”

“And yet, here we are,” Regina sighed as if in sympathy for the blonde's plight of reality. “I did warn you, Miss Swan. You should have turned right around and left Storybrooke that very night you brought my son back, not wormed your way into my town and my life. You broke my curse, Miss Swan.” Regina sneered coldly, and the vine about her throat tightened marginally.

“Well, uh, it wasn't on purpose, you know,” replied Emma.

“I'm sure.” Regina stepped closer. “You've grown up quite beautifully, Miss Swan.”

She disappeared in a cloud of purple and Emma screamed, pain lancing through her left shoulder as an arrow pierced her flesh deep into the muscle.

“Emma!”

“Mary-Margaret?” she gritted out, spotting her roommate on the edge of the clearing, another arrow already notched into her bow. “Did you just fucking shoot me?” Emma asked, blinking rapidly against the pain, gaping as David, Leroy, and a group of others appeared with their own weapons. “Where did you even get that?” 

“Are you all right?” Snow asked, eyes wandering about the clearing.

“Besides the arrow sticking out of my shoulder? I'm just peachy,” grumbled Emma, still tangled in the vines. 

She stiffened when two arms wrapped themselves around her waist, the first coming up to rest on her shoulder, middle and ring fingers splayed around the arrow. The second dropped down to wind possessively around her opposite hip. The faint hint of apple blossoms in the air made her heart pound furiously.

“Must you always damage my things, dearest Snow?”

“Let her go, Regina,” ordered Snow, bow raised towards the two women. Emma gulped. None of the fairy tales exactly mentioned Snow White being competent with a bow, and she'd kind of already been shot once any way. Plus, how long had it been for these people, trapped in a world of normalcy where they weren't using medieval weapons? The back of her mind whispered treacherously to Emma that Mary-Margaret had always been just a bit too well-toned to have simply been a meek schoolteacher who didn't even exercise. The kind and gentle princess idea wasn't exactly shaping up to meet those specifications either.

“Really, Snow, what mother shoots her own daughter?” Regina tutted, breath tickling Emma's ear. “I never made that mistake with you or Henry.”

_Daughter-what?_ Emma struggled, turning her head to look at Regina, eyes bulging. _Oh hell, hell no._

“No, you just tossed around cursed apples,” spat Snow, the group forming a half-circle in front of Regina and Emma. “Let Emma go.”

Regina laughed, “I believe I made myself quite clear on the day she was born, Snow dearest. Emma is mine, and you will not take my property from me. You've delayed this long enough.”

And she unceremoniously plunged her hand into Emma's chest, ignoring the younger woman's screech.

“No!” David's sword bounced off a pale translucent dome surrounding the two women. The noises of the group beating desperately against the shield were muffled. Regina jerked her hand back, fingers wrapped around the blonde's heart, puzzled as her wrist seemed to catch against Emma's sternum and ribs. She frowned, giving another experimental tug.

Emma panted, struggling, horror creeping through her veins as Regina's hand moved around inside her chest. The uncomfortable feelings bordered on painful as she tugged.

“Oh, how curious,” Regina purred, lips curling into a grin of amusement as she finished her magical inspection of the immovable heart in her hand. “You've already done half the work for me, Miss Swan.” She squeezed tightly, listening to Emma gasp. “You're going to crumble soon, Miss Swan, and when you do, you're going to come crawling to me to end all this, ask me to remove the madness. And I'll take it from you, dear.” The soft kiss to her cheek did nothing to stop the feeling of terror that overwhelmed Emma as Regina's eyes twinkled at her playfully before she vanished in a pillar of smoke, shield collapsing at her departure as the vines simultaneously lost their vice-like grip around Emma.

“Emma!” David and Snow rushed forward, pulling her up from the ground, pushing aside her weak attempts to stand on her own, mindful of the arrow still lodged in her shoulder.

“Are you all right?”

“I'm fi-,” the blonde crumpled into their arms. Snow awkwardly positioned their daughter in David's arms. A sharp howl from nearby set their hair on end.

“Damn. We need to go. Red got loose,” Snow said, brushing back Emma's hair from her face. “And Emma needs the hospital.”


End file.
